"Yes, I'm mad half crazy. And you've made me so. Ever since I married you, you've had this girl in your mind morning, noon and night.... Now I know it! Oh, what a fool I was! I--I suppose possibly the next thing we'll know you'll be claiming the--"
Frederick shook her roughly.
"I said to stop it," he gritted. "Come away this minute."
Madelene, crying now, was struggling to pull herself from Frederick's grasp.
"I want to talk to that woman before I go," she screamed in desperation.
"Let me go, Fred! I _will_ speak to her."
"You'll not if I can help it," answered Frederick. "Come out of here, I say!"
By main strength he was drawing his wife toward the door. Tess was staring at them as if they were creatures from another world.
"I'm sorry," Frederick said directly over Madelene's head to her.
"Dreadfully sorry."
"Sorry!" shrieked Madelene. "Sorry for such a woman! Look what you've done to me, both of you!" She wrenched herself from the strong fingers and flung back to the squatter girl. "I want to know if my husband is the father--"
Frederick had hold of her once more. The anger in his white face was terrible to see.
"If you speak to her again," he said murderously, "I'll--I'll--"
"I suppose you'll kill me," shrilled his wife. "Well, go ahead! The only way you'll ever get her will be when I'm dead!" Then she thrust her white working face close to his. "If she won't speak, will you? You're my husband, and I find you here with this--this--.... Are you the father of her baby?"
"No," said Frederick, dropping his eyes. "No, of course not!"
Tessibel bent her head to receive the last brutal stroke he had to give.
She moved but uttered no sound.
"Well, do you love her then?" demanded Madelene.
And Frederick, not daring to look at Tess, repeated, "No, of course not.... Don't be a fool!"
"Then, what do you want of him, girl?" Madelene cried hoarsely to Tessibel. "You've heard what he said."
Tess thought she was going to die. All the awful hurt which had lain dormant for so many weeks rose up with ten thousand times the vigor. It was as if Heaven had belched out flames to consume her, and she knew there was no escape from this thing that had come upon her. Frederick had not only repudiated his love for her, but his baby too. She threw back her curls with a proud gesture.
"I don't want 'im," she said straight to Madelene. "Take 'im away an'
don't let 'im come here any more."
When Madelene started to speak again, Frederick shoved her from the hut into the gray day. He turned once and looked at Tess. She was just where he'd left her, her eyes brimmed with sorrow and her teeth locked tightly together.
Then the door banged shut and she was alone in the kitchen. A little later she heard as in a dream the sound of horses' hoofs retreating far up the lane. Then all the powers of darkness closed in about her, and malicious elfin voices chattered her shame in her ears. Frederick had repudiated her and his child and had gone! Tess staggered forward, and a few minutes afterward, when Andy slipped down the ladder, he found her curled up on the cot insensible, her face shrouded in red curls.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE QUARREL
When Frederick Graves closed the door of the Skinner hut, he wheeled furiously upon his young wife.
"Come home," he said gruffly. "You've done enough harm for today."
"If I've done more than you have," retorted Madelene, tartly, "then I'm some little harm maker!" Suffering intensely from jealousy, she whirled about, crying, "That's what's been the matter with you all the time we've been abroad! And I know very well Tessibel Skinner sent for you to come home."
"That's a lie," interrupted Frederick, fiercely.
Madelene paused in her ascent of the hill lane.
"What made you come down here today, then, if you didn't want to see her yourself?"
Frederick was silent. He hated scenes like this. If he spoke his real mind, he'd plunge himself into hot water at once. And he was always careful not to do that. Silence at the present moment was better than speech. Besides, his late contact with Tessibel Skinner had left him aquiver. Oh, how he loved her! Every nerve in his body called out for sight of his beloved. He would have gone back to the shack if he'd dared.
"Where did you leave your horse?" snapped Madelene, when they'd nearly reached her own.
"In the lower stable at my father's old place,--over there."
"I'll help you mount and then get my horse," said he. "Do you wish to ride on without me?"
Mrs. Graves made a dissenting gesture.
"No, of course, I don't. I want you to come with me directly. I won't let you out of my sight so near that girl. I think it's perfectly outrageous! I somehow believe you lied to me about--"
"Keep your opinions to yourself," growled Frederick. "I've no wish to hear them."
Madelene was about to put her foot into the stirrup. Instead, she stood while fresh tears gathered under her lids.
"Frederick, you're cruel and awfully ugly to me," she said plaintively.
"How can you do such things after _all_ the money I've given you?"
Frederick expressed his feeling by a cynical little laugh.
"Perhaps if you didn't throw up your confounded benevolence so often, I might show more gratitude," he snapped back.
Then he lifted her to the saddle, gave her the bridle, and walked beside her to the barn.
His thoughts were busy until, when they reached home, the silence between them was appalling. Thankful to be a few minutes by himself, the young man went away to stable the horses and his wife entered the house.
Madelene found her brother sitting before the grate fire. Helen looked up and smiled at her sweetly.
"Come and get warm, dear," she said. "You've had a long ride, haven't you?... Why, what's the matter, Madelene?"
Mrs. Graves dropped into a chair.
"I'm so awfully unhappy," she cried, "and Frederick's as mean as he can be.... I hate that Skinner girl!"